


Don't Stand At My Grave

by anathema15



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-07 15:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathema15/pseuds/anathema15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thedas lost a great hero when Hawke got left in the Fade.<br/>No one stopped to think that she might still be alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bethany

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes about the world state I'm working from for this fic:  
> -Custom Warrior Hawke (Isla)  
> -Hawke/Anders romance  
> -Circle mage Bethany  
> -Alistair/F!Cousland romance  
> -Did the ritual with Morrigan  
> -Alistair was not made king, Anora rules alone
> 
> Honestly, I think that's all that's really important to the fic, but if you have any questions, I'm sure I can answer them.

_“Do not stand at my grave and weep._

_I am not there. I do not sleep."_

_-Mary Elizabeth Frye_

 

Inquisitor Lavellan stepped out of the rift in The Fade, Warden Alistair close behind her. She slammed the rift shut, banishing Corypheus’s demon army.

As the people rejoiced, Varric stepped forward and asked where Hawke was. She’d been just behind them.

The Inquisitor looked in his eyes and struggled to find the words to explain.

 

And leagues away, Bethany slept.

She dreamt of Lothering, of the sunny little cottage the Hawkes had lived in when they finally decided to stop running for good.

She knew that the cottage was gone, the whole town along with it, and that this was just a trick of the Fade, but it was a welcome change from the dreary walls of the Circle, or the bland, samey look of every inn she had stayed at since the Circles dissolved and she went on the run. It was nice enough to see a place she called home that Bethany was content to just sit quietly and let it be, knowing that if any demons showed up to try to tempt her with it, she could easily take care of them.

She sat in one of her old favorite spots at the window, letting herself have a peaceful rest, until she heard the sounds of fighting from outside. Looking outside the window she saw her sister, fighting off a small hoard spiders.

Bethany sighed and shook her head before grabbing her staff and heading out to help.

The spiders were quickly dispersed with a few well-placed fireballs, leaving them as little more than smoking corpses and piles of ash.

“Well,” Bethany said, “Even in _the Fade_ you attract nothing but trouble.

Hawke turned to her sister and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Maker’s breath, Bethany,” she said, “It’s good to see a familiar face. Or, any face that isn’t a demon. You’re not a demon, are you? Because if you are I will be so mad-”

“I’m not a demon, Isla,” Bethany said, hoping that using her sister’s oft forgotten first name would help convince her, “What are you doing here? You’re no mage, but you’re still so…present and aware-”

“Varric hasn’t told you yet?” Hawke asked, “I assumed he’d send out letters almost as soon as it happened. I suppose a messenger should be coming to Highever any day now. How is Highever, by the way? Everyone treating you alright?”

“It’s-it’s fine, Isla. When you said you’d ‘call in some favors’ to get me a safe place to stay, I really didn’t expect the favor to be from _the Hero of Ferelden’s lover._ But what-?”

“I suppose you can tell the Teyrn that Alistair’s alright. The two of them have grown rather close, if the way Alistair talks is anything to go by. Which it usually isn’t, but still-”

_"Isla!”_

“Sorry!” Hawke said, grinning sheepishly, “I just haven’t gotten to talk to anyone except demons and monsters for a while, and they’re not renowned for their conversation. I got a little carried away. I was going to tell you all about my exciting adventures in the Fade, right?”

Bethany nodded.

“Well, I’ll try to keep it as short as I can. I’m sure Varric would be able to fill in the details if you need them. I went to Skyhold because Varric asked me to help the Inquisition stop a demon army that this guy Corypheus was getting the Grey Wardens to summon. So we went to Adamant and some shit happened and we fought a bunch of demons and then we were falling off a bridge and the Inquisitor opened a rift in the Fade and we fell into that instead of to the ground below. So I’m… physically here. I’m not dreaming or under a spell. This is just where I am now, I guess.”

 _"What?_ But that… that doesn’t even make _sense!_ Is that even _possible?”_

“Look, I never claimed to have Varric’s talent for telling stories. But that’s pretty much what happened. Except for the part where we were about to escape the Fade and I volunteered to stay behind to fight a giant monster so the others could escape.”

“You _volunteered-”_

“But after the Inquisitor closed the rift, the thing I was fighting disappeared. I think it got banished along with the fear demon we were fighting. Since then, I’ve just been wandering around, trying not to die.”

“That was always your plan, wasn’t it?”

Hawke smiled, hugging Bethany again, her armor weighing down heavily on Bethany’s slim form, helping in it’s own small way to reassure Bethany that this was her sister and that what she said was true.

Which meant she had some important letters to send.

 

A messenger came for her the next morning, bearing Varric’s letter and it’s news of Hawke’s death.

Bethany thanked Teyrn Cousland for his hospitality, and, after informing him that Alistair was fine, packed her few belongings and headed for Skyhold.

Varric deserved to be told in person.


	2. Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to try to update Monday, Wednesday, Friday. So... look forward to that, if I can keep it up!

Hawke wasn’t sure which was worse- the fact that the Fade had no sense of time, or the fact that it had no logical, consistent geography. No matter how far she walked, everything looked the exact same- same black rocks, same sickly green glowing sky, the Black City always seeming to be the exact same distance away.

Which was good, Hawke decided, because she didn’t want to get any closer to it. It made her uneasy.

She wasn’t really sure where she was going, just aimlessly walking through the Fade, heading through people’s dreams, seeing what she could see.

She knew that, logically, everyone’s dreams were connected through the Fade, because there was only one, and everyone but dwarves dreamed there. But knowing it was a completely different thing than marching from dream to dream and watching them blend together.

Most people’s dreams were kind of dull, or extremely private, so Hawke tried to pass through them as quickly as possible.

Mage’s dreams were different, though, as they often gave her some demons to fight.

“You know what?” she said, out loud, pulling her sword out of a fallen Pride demon, “I’m starting to miss fighting bandits. Oh, and Tal-Vashoth. At least they offered some variety- SWEET ANDRASTE!”

A fireball shot past her head, exploding against one of the slick black rocks in front of her.

“Demon” said a voice- the shooter, probably, “You are not welcome here.”

“Demon? No, I just killed the- wait…” Hawke turned to look at the speaker, a slow smile spreading across her face. “...Anders?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “No, no, you’re all… blue. Justice, then. I’ll be honest, Justice, I never thought I would be this happy to see you.”

Justice shot another fireball at her, that she barely dodged.

“You disgust me, demon,” he growled, “Taking the form of Serrah Hawke so soon after her death. It’s disgusting.”

“Justice, it’s me! I’m the real Hawke!” She didn’t know why, but even though Justice was certain she was a demon and was kind of set on killing her, she couldn’t keep from smiling. “Maker’s breath, can’t you tell the difference between demons and your friends?”

Justice faltered slightly.

“When I went to stop Corypheus’s demon army with the Inquisition, the Inquisitor opened a rife in the Fade and we fell in. I stayed behind to distract a demon so the others had time to escape. And now I’m stuck here.”

Justice was silent, thinking this over.

“Your story is very… unlikely,” he said.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Hawke chuckled a little. “If I were a demon, I think I’d come up with a better story.”

“...I...suppose…”

“Besides, it’s not like I could possess Anders, even if I were a demon. I mean, you already beat anyone else to it. Can you have more than one of you in your head?”

“I am not a _demon,_ ” Justice said, with a scowl. Hawke chuckled again.

“I know, Justice,” she said, “I know that better than anyone. Except Anders. Shit, maybe _including_ Anders.”

“If you do turn out to be a demon, I will not hesitate to kill you,” Justice sighed as he finally lowered his staff, and Hawke finally put her greatsword away in response.

“I would expect nothing less.”

She sat down on a rock, and, after a brief pause, Justice sat down beside her.

“So, we talked about why _I’m_ here, but what about you, Justice? I thought you couldn’t re-enter the Fade or something?”

“I am still bound to Anders,” he said, “But when we assisted the mage Feynriel, I found I could enter the Fade whenever Anders does. Normally, I chose not to. His dreams are his own. But he was… distressed by the news of your passing. He has not been himself. As he is not currently fit to defend himself from demons in his dreams I… offered.”

“That’s decent of you.”

“It was necessary.”

Hawke sighed.

“Will you tell him I’m sorry?” she asked, “I didn’t- I never intended to hurt him.”

“What _did_ you intend to do?”

“Stop a demon army?”

“No,” Justice said, with a shake of Anders’ blond head, “I meant in general. With him.”

“Why?”

“His feelings for you are… intense,” Justice said, slowly, still trying to work out the answer as he was already saying it, “I have never witnessed such a thing firsthand. I suppose I am… curious.”

“You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you, Justice?” Hawke said, with a small, amused smile.

“I am not. You are deflecting.”

Hawke sighed again. The Fade was making her tired.

“I don’t know,” she said, “I wanted to help him, I guess. He was so… passionate. He wanted to help his fellow mages and nothing would stop him. He… he moved me. I’ve never really stood for much of anything in my life, and his determination… it moved me. Although I suppose a lot of his passion for mage rights was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“No. He was angry before he and I met. I simply gave him a little direction.”

“So, that thing with the Chantry-?”

“The idea belonged to both of us.”

Hawke nodded slowly.

“He was surprised you spared his life,” Justice said, “He still is. He expected to be martyred for the cause.”

“See, it’s things like that that make me want to hit him sometimes. Even if I _weren’t_ very supportive of giving out second chances, I… I could never have killed him. Sometimes I think about it at night and I… it makes me sick.” She ran a hand through her short, blonde hair, so like her father’s, the only Hawke child to really look like him. “I still don’t know if I’ve entirely forgiven him for putting me in that position.”

“Have you forgiven him for the actual actions he took at the Chantry?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Hawke leaned back against more rocks, looking over at the Black City hanging ominously in the distance. “I mean, he was right, wasn’t he? The mages were being oppressed and without some sort of drastic action, nothing was going to change. I guess I was just… hurt. That he didn’t trust me enough to tell me about it.” She shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t matter now, anyway. It’s already passed. Nothing we can do about that.”

Justice nodded, and the two of them fell into an almost companionable silence until Justice stood up.

“Anders will be waking up soon,” he said.

“Oh.” Hawke tried to keep the disappointment from her voice. “Will you tell him that I said I’m sorry?”

“I am not a messenger,” Justice said, “.........But perhaps just this once. As a favor to a friend.” Hawke gave him one of the brightest smiles she could muster. “Although I suppose I will start with telling him you’re alive.”

“Thank you, Justice,” Hawke said, pulling him into a hug. She had always been a very physical person, as quick to fight as she was to hug. “Keep him safe for me. He needs someone to keep him out of trouble.”

“I’d prefer you come back and do the job yourself, Serrah Hawke.”

“I’ll work on it. And Justice?” Hawke let him go, smile still firmly on her lips. “You can call me Isla.”

Justice’s lip twitched in the semblance of a smile, and then he was gone, and Hawke was once again alone.

 

Anderes woke up slowly, unwillingly, his head pounding. He’d drank too much the night before, trying to find the amount of ale that would make him stop seeing the ghost of Isla Hawke around every corner.

And now he was paying the price. Oh, well. At least the pounding in his head distracted him from the emptiness in his chest.

“Morning, Justice,” Anders mumbled, his mouth feeling as if it had been stuffed with cotton.

_Anders,_ Justice said, in the back of Anders’ head, _Hawke is alive._

“I didn’t know spirits could get delusional,” Anders said, “You miss her, too, huh? Never would have guessed.”

_She is trapped in the Fade,_ Justice continued, ignoring Anders.

“The _Fade?_ That doesn’t sound right. She’s not even a mage. Why would she be in the Fade?”

_She saved the lives of the Inquisitor and Warden Alistair, expecting to die, but she did not._

“Now, that does sound like her,” Anders stood up and stretched. “The Fade, hm? That’s… unexpected, to say the least. But that’s… that’s better than dead. It’s not _great,_ but it’s better than dead. She isn’t dead, right?”

_She is not dead._

“Thank the Maker.”

He nearly wept with relief. She wasn’t dead. _She wasn’t dead._

“We’ll- we’ll need to find a way to get her out of there,” he said, “Any suggestions?”

_The Inquisitor was with her in the Fade,_ Justice said, _Perhaps she would be able to give us more information._

“Yeah,” Anders said with a nod, “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea. Varric is with the Inquisition, too, isn’t he? I’m sure he’d like to hear about this.”

Anders felt better than he had in weeks. He had a goal again, a purpose, the same one he’d had for almost 9 years back in Kirkwall- help Hawke.

It felt good to fit back into this familiar role. It felt good to be of _use_ again.

“I should shave,” he mumbled, scratching at stubble that had almost become a proper beard. “Did Hawke say anything else to you when you spoke to her?”

_She said she was sorry. She wanted you to know that she did not mean to get trapped and leave you._

Anders almost laughed.

“She _apologized?_ ” he said, “She is just… oh, Hawke is too good for me. She’s too good for anyone.”

In the back of Anders’ mind, Justice quietly agreed.

 


	3. Aveline

Hawke stumbled away from the corpse of a desire demon, trying to staunch the bleeding from the large gash on her arm. The demon had gotten her good, and, Maker’s breath, Hawke felt so tired. She felt like she could collapse at any minute, but she knew she wasn’t safe here. She wasn’t safe _anywhere._

“Andraste’s _ass,_ ”she muttered, “If I die now, I will be so _mad_.”

She thought she heard someone call her name, and she tripped over a rock looking around for the speaker. She heard her name called again, and then blacked out.

 

The first thought when she opened her eyes again was that her armor was gone.

“About time you woke up,” said a voice. Ferelden. Female. Familiar. Demon? No, no. Hawke was pretty sure no demon could accurately replicate that voice- both annoyed and caring at the same time.

“Aveline?” Hawke asked, smiling a little.

“Morning, Hawke,” Aveline said, “I was starting to get worried about you.”

“Aren’t you always?” Hawke looked around them, seeing Aveline’s office in the Viscount’s Keep, overlain across the Fade like a painted window.

“Shush,” Aveline said, “I need to sew up that cut on your arm.”

“You’re not going to call a healer?”

“If you didn’t have Anders heal it, no. I know you hate having strangers do magic on you.”

Hawke almost laugh. Yeah, fat lot of good _that_ had done her.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I’m not dead?” she asked instead. Aveline snorted.

“I ask myself that every say. Now hold still.” She took out a needle and thread to sew up the wound.

“You’re the best, Aveline,” Hawke said, and let Aveline fix her up. Aveline’s warm, calloused hands were steady and familiar.

Hawke would never say that Aveline was like a mother to her, at least not out loud, and Aveline would never allow it anyway, but Leandra had long since passed, and after Bethany went to the Circle, Hawke barely saw her. Aveline was the closest thing to family Hawke still had.

Guard Captain Aveline Vallen was an immovable object, a fixed point for everyone in Kirkwall, and Hawke was no exception. If anything, Hawke new it better than anyone else- Aveline was one of the best people in the world.

“Aveline?” Hawke said, as Aveline wrapped a bandage around Hawke’s newly stitched-up arm.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Aveline raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I don’t mean like _that,_ ” Hawke said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, “But… you know, after what we went through in Kirkwall… even just _getting_ to Kirkwall… I don’t know. I just wanted to say thanks. For always being there for me.”

“Keep yourself safe, Hawke,” Aveline said in response, which Hawke took to be her way of saying _“I love you, too.”_

 

Aveline only half-remembered the dream when she woke up, just bits and pieces- her office in the Keep, a needle and thread, and the overwhelming certainty that Hawke was _alright._ Or, at least, not dead.

She had gotten Varric’s letter about Hawke’s death, forwarded to her by Bethany, alone with a letter of Bethany’s own saying that Hawke was significantly _less_ dead. She hadn’t been sure either of them were true until now.

The door to her house opened, and Aveline reached for the knife she always kept under her pillow before realizing it was only Donnic, coming back home after a late night patrol.

“Good morning,” Donnic said, “You’re up early.”

“Aren’t I always? My work is never done. You know that.”

“True.” Donnic came over to give his wife a quick kiss before stripping off his armor. “But usually I have time to start breakfast first. Did you sleep alright?” He paused, looking over at her, “Were you having nightmares again?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said, getting out of bed to get dressed and ready for her day just as Donnic was doing the opposite.

“I keep telling you to take some time off from the guard,” he said, “After Hawke-”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just trying to say that everyone would understand.”

“Thank you, Donnic, but I won’t.” Before, she’d refused to take his advice because she feared that, without the work, she’d fall apart. But now she had no reason to avoid it. Hawke wasn’t dead. She had nothing to grieve.

Perhaps she should tell Bethany about it, send her a letter confirming her experience with Hawke. And Anders- Aveline had meant to send Bethany’s letter to him, since she assumed no one else would want to. (To be fair, she didn’t want to, either, but Hawke had left Anders’ location with her for a reason.) And Varric. Aveline was sure Bethany would tell him, but she was sure that, as much as Varric loved his fanciful stories, he’d want some confirmation on this one.


	4. Isabella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is, like, suuuuper late. It took me a lot longer to write than the previous ones and then I was sick and all.... anyway, I'll probably be updating the fic on Wednesdays from now on, and then Monday or Friday if I'm that far ahead of schedule.

Hawke could see a building on the horizon. Small, unassuming- generously, it could be described as “sturdy”.

Hawke couldn’t say _what_ it was, exactly, but walking through the Fade was exhausting. At the very least, the squat building in the distance could provide a place to sit down. And, more than that, it provided a goal.

She heaved her greatsword back upon her back and started walking. As she got closer to the building, a city appeared around it, filling in the background.

“Kirkwall…?” Hawke mumbled. The simple building in the distance properly came into view, and Hawke felt herself smile.

The Hanged Man.

Hawke opened the front door, her smile growing wider as she saw her usual table filled with the usual people.

“Hawke!” Isabella said, waving, “Anders said you couldn’t make it this week!”

“Who, me?” Hawke sat down in her spot, right between Anders and Varric, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Isabella dealt Hawke a hand of cards so she could join their game of Wicked Grace. Everything about the scene was so familiar it hurt- the smell of desperation that was integral to the aesthetic of The Hanged Man, the pisswater ale they served, the same easy banter between her friends. She knew they weren’t real, more like quick portraits of her friends, like players acting their parts from just vague ideas of who they were.

Isabella was still perfectly Isabella, caring and callous, outgoing and reserved, multitudinous and complex the way she’d always been, the way they all were. Hawke drank deeply from her mug of ale, and drank even deeper from their company.

She could kiss Isabella for giving her this. She could weep into her ale.

(Fenris asked how they could drink that swill. Anders said that if he didn’t like it, he could leave. Varric asked if they remembered what they drank in the Deep Roads. Now _that_ was swill.)

Hawke could weep, but she didn’t. She smiled quietly and played her cards, letting the familiar arguments and conversations wash over her like a cool rain to end a drought.

 

Anders arrived at Skyhold with as little fanfare as could be hoped for for a man who was instrumental in causing a revolution that now spanned across Thedas. The Inquisition’s scouts must have spotted him from leagues off, because they had already gathered a small welcoming party of templars.

Bethany stood in front of them.

The last time Anders had seen her, she’d been wearing her Circle robs, and she’d been angry- at him, at Orsino, and Meredith, at the world. Her clothes now were more practical than robes and been, and, surprisingly enough, she was smiling.

“Anders!” she called out, as soon as Anders was close enough to hear.

“Hello, Bethany,” Anders called back, “You look well.”

“And you look…” Her voice trailed off, and Anders shook his head with a small smile, letting her know that she didn’t need to finish the sentence. He knew what he looked like- thin, gaunt, almost, and so very, very tired. Going on the run with Hawke had been hard, and losing her had been so much harder.

“Well, it’s good to see you,” Bethany said, turning to head inside Skyhold. Anders followed her, the Templars parting like water before them.

“So, you saw her, too, then?” Bethany asked, “Hawke in the Fade.”

“I didn’t,” Anders said, “But Justice did. And we thought the best place to go to look for a way to get her back was...”

“...the last place she went,” Bethany finished, “That was my thinking, too.” She walked up the many stairs to Skyhold’s keep, and Anders followed her, if only because she seemed to know where she was going. “The Inquisitor said she’d help any way she could, too. She seemed very eager about it, too.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Anders was surprised to see Varric there at the top, waiting for them.

“There you are, Sunshine,” he said, “You’ll never guess who sent me a letter.”

He handed her the piece of paper to read.

“Hello, Varric,” Anders said.

“Anders,” Varric said, with a small nod. Anders pursed his lips. trying not to frown.

“It’s from Isabella!” Bethany said, thrusting the letter into Anders’ hands. He skimmed it quickly- Isabella had seen Hawke in a dream like she’d heard she might, Hawke seemed well enough, and as soon as Isabella found a chance and an open port, she’d bring her ship around and come to Skyhold to meet them. Anders paused, focusing on some of Isabella’s opening words.

“You’ve been exchanging letters?” he asked Varric. Varric shrugged. “Have you been writing to everyone?”

“As much as I can.”

Anders frowned.

“Anders?” Bethany asked. He shook his head.

“It’s nothing. Nevermind.”

“Let it out, Blondie,” Varric said, sounding annoyed, “You were never one for hiding your feelings.”

“You never wrote to me,” Anders said, trying his best not to sound like a petulant child.

“I didn’t have anything to say to you.”

“You didn’t write when Hawke _died._ ”

“Hawke’s _not_ dead.”

“But you thought she was! I only learned about it because Aveline sent her condolences!” Anders’ anger surprised even him, but he’d thought maybe Varric had only been writing to Bethany and Aveline- Hawke’s family. But Isabella? Not only was she not family, but she was probably the hardest out of any of their friends to keep in consistent contact with.

“I was _going_ to-”

“ _When?_ When would you have _deigned_ to tell me that the _woman I loved_ was-”

“Creators, please, would you both please shut up?” said a new voice. An elf, wearing a beige coat and a scowl. “I can hear you two across Skyhold. That’s what I get for trying to get six hours of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Six?” Varric said, “How decedent.”

“Shut up. Apologize to Anders.”

“Inquisitor-”

“ _Do it_ , Varric.”

Varric sighed and mumbled an apology.

“Good enough,” the woman- the Inquisitor- said, “Now, Anders, you, too.”

“Me? But I-”

“ _Destroyed Kirkwall_ , Anders. Now, apologize.”

Anders apologized as well.

“There. Now, if I have to put you in separate corners of Skyhold, I will.” She shook her head a little. “Anders, come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

“You’re taking his side?” Varric asked, with a small, incredulous laugh.

“No, I’m not taking anyone’s side,” The Inquisitor said, putting her hands on her hips, “I just don’t want to be woken up by him accidentally meeting _Vivienne._ I’m sure you can agree with that.”

Varric held up his hands in surrender and the Inquisitor turned to leave, gesturing for Anders to follow her.

“Sorry about that,” she said, as soon as they were out of earshot, “He’s… still mad at you.”

“All of Thedas is mad at me,” Anders said, “I think I should just get used to it at this point.”

“Do you still think you did the right thing?”

The question threw Anders for a moment, and he thought hard on the answer.

“I don’t know,” he said, honestly, “Something needed to be done. But…”

“I understand,” the Inquisitor said, “And… for what it’s worth, I… support you.”

“..........................Thank you, Inquisitor. Few would agree with you.”

“Well, I’m a Dalish mage that’s now at the head of a large religious movement calling for massive changes across Thedas. Few agree with anything I do.” She smiled a little. “I think I should just get used to it at this point. Now, come on. I’ll show you all the best places to hide in Skyhold. You… may need them.” She started walking off purposefully, and Anders followed her.

“Oh, and Anders?” she said, “I’m glad Hawke’s alive.”

“Me too, Inquisitor,” Anders said, “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inb4 someone gets mad at me for varric in this chapter, i would like to point out that he mentions writing a letter about Hawke's fate to whomever hawke's love interest was, unless that person was Anders  
> aaand any time he mentions anders in party banter it is very negatively  
> aaaaaaaaaaaand in his disapproval dialogue he compares the inquisitor to anders  
> anyway i really love varric but i ALSO really love him being angry at anders for destroying kirkwall


End file.
